I froze, unable to move or utter a word. I knew I died and an angel greeted me. The only thing missing was the white light. I made a mental note to telepathically send Mother a message that there are black angels. I heard her telling Father she studied scripture with her filthy rich friends at a filthy rich church where only the rich attended and she learned only the rich, the really richly rich had eternal spirits. Everyone else had to go through a series of reincarnated forms until they learned how to be rich. This was how God made heaven exclusively for the rich people.
At the time, I wondered, if Mother’s reasoning were true, what she was in a former life. I wondered how many reincarnations she’d been through before she was born a Feathering. It was one of those thoughts best left unsaid. Instead, I reasoned there might be a flaw in Mother’s logic given I was staring at a black angel who won’t be among the filthy rich until she marries me. J will have to go through a period of adjustment learning to be filthy rich. I’ll have to ask Mother if there are schools that teach you how to be filthy rich.
“Doctor M, snapped out of it,” J said now standing and exposing her perfect figure. I caught a glimpse of her aura. Shades of green, blue, and turquoise surrounded J telling me she was everything all men desired, yet only one man on the planet could have her, me. My spirit came back to me and whispered I had to return to reality. I smiled at J and said, “I go by a new name now. A spiritual messenger gave me the name Double M.”
“What is this spiritual messenger’s name,” asked J.
“You mean the Mexican custodian who works in the building?” asked J.
“That’s the one,” I said.
“You high on drugs? If you are, don’t come any closer. I’ll Taser you. I have one in my handbag and I know how to use it,” said J.
A glazed look came over my face. I said, “I’m high on love.”
J sat down behind her desk. The extended her beautiful, toned, right arm toward me. Slowly, seductively, she curled her right index finger toward me, just like the vision I had earlier. Only this time, she wasn’t nude. It was okay, I had a clear image of her body, every contour, each rise and fall of her flesh. Call it obsession, call it lust, call it whatever you want, it had hold of me and wasn’t letting go. Her magnetic attraction pulled me toward her the same way a compass points to true North. Within seconds I was standing in front of her desk gazing into the deepest, most beautiful dark brown eyes ever seen in the history of the world.
“May I ask you a question first?”
“It depends. Are you going to ask me to marry you?”
“I’ve already asked that question and your body language accepted. It’s only a matter of us choosing a date, hiring a wedding planner, and making the decision when we’ll start living together. I have a question that precedes all that,” I said.
J sighed, “Ask it.”
I gave J my most disarming smile and said, “Until we formerly announce our marital plans, do you want me to refer to you as my mistress or my lover?”
It happened again. J broke into a wonderful laugh. Her mouth opened wide as she roared aloud. It was an erotic performance on her part to let me know she was happy with either term. I entered a blissful state while J’s laughter continued. I stood patiently in front of her waiting her her laughter to subside. I was well aware when her laughter subsided, J would come around her desk, embrace me and enter into a kiss so deep, so long, and so emotionally charged there would be no return for either one of us for hours.
Five minutes later, J’s laughter eased the way a dawn eases into the day. She made eye contact with me, “Double M. I should be offended. I should file a sexual harassment law suit. I should come around this desk and kick your ass. I can’t.”
“Is it because you’re coming home with me tonight to meet Mother and Father and we will formally announce our wedding date?”
“Oh hell no. It is none of the above. You ever go to the city animal shelter? Don’t answer, I already know the answer and you don’t even know what an animal shelter is.”
I nodded my head in agreement.
J continued, “Most normal human beings enjoy seeing little puppies, they’re cute. You can’t help but want to pet them, and pick them up, and cuddle them.”
“Am I your little puppy?” I hopefully asked.
I watched J fight the urge to start laughing. I knew I was making progress.
J said, “No, you’re not my little puppy I want to cuddle and pet. You’re more like a foster child who needs adult guidance to grow into a mature adult. Sometimes it takes tough love to make this happen.”
I interrupted J, “I’ll take any kind of love. Tough love sounds kinky. I’ve never tried it. I don’t go for bondage or anything degrading.”
It happened again. J began pounding her desk with her fist, gulping in large quantities of air, reaching for Kleenex to dry the tears streaming down her face. I know she loves me. I saw a romantic movie where one of the characters said the first stage of true love was the ability to laugh at each other. I watched J come around and scribble something on a notepad. She was writing her first love note to me. She pushed it across the table and turned it around so I could read it.
Go Into Your Office and Get Ready for Group.
TRUST FUND BABY CONTINUES ON MONDAY